


Turns out finding yourself with the back to the wall is more fun literally than figuratively

by possessedradios (orphan_account)



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/F, I'm once again so sorry for my monster titles, Smooching!!!!, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 10:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14306295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/possessedradios
Summary: See, the thing is, Alana isn’tentirelysure how she ended up with her back to the wall so literally, and it should undoubtedly leave her more concerned than it does, but it’s very hard to worry about anything at all with Rachel Young’s lips on her own.





	Turns out finding yourself with the back to the wall is more fun literally than figuratively

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt by gawain-in-green: 
> 
> "Concept: Maxwell has definitely stared dreamily at Rachel multiple times. Corollary: Rachel has absolutely pushed her up against a wall and made out with her at least once, perfectly timed so that Kepler walks in on them just as it's getting heated. Yes no maybe so?"
> 
> And, hell yes! I'm too invested in this ship now, thank you so much for opening my eyes.

See, the thing is, Alana isn’t _entirely_ sure how she ended up with her back to the wall so literally, and it should undoubtedly leave her more concerned than it does, but it’s very hard to worry about anything at all with Rachel Young’s lips on her own.

“You know, Doctor,” she had said, had kept her voice light, “it’s funny that first, you refuse to make eye contact while talking to me – very, very rude, we’ve been over that – only to then stare at me through half of the cafeteria when you think I’m not looking. Curious, hm?”

Curious indeed, just as curious as her rapidly beating heart that Alana would have loved to blame on nervousness but that she knew had its origin somewhere else – maybe, just a guess, it was rather Rachel’s hand, firmly placed against her shoulder and _pushing_ until Alana had found herself pressed against the wall, or maybe it was the physical proximity in general– 

Anyway. Rachel’s lips on her own. That’s what this is, now, somehow, and Rachel had looked at her so _knowingly_ , and– 

She draws back, suddenly, and frowns at Alana. 

“Oh,” Alana says and is surprised by how disappointed she manages to make it sound; one word, a single syllable. “Why’d you stop?” 

Rachel looks at her for a long second and then laughs, a sound that very much sounds like her; like the edge of a knife or a lecture from Kepler. Not unkind; not necessarily, just– sharp and dangerous. 

“You’re giving me some mixed signals, here,” Rachel says. “I was ready to _apologize_ for apparently having misread your behavior.” 

Alana blinks at her, unsure what she means, and either she doesn’t know herself as well as she thought, or Rachel is much better at reading people than she had anticipated, which, she’d be more than ready to blame entirely on the fact that Rachel spends way more time with Cutter than anyone ever should. Either way, Rachel seems to understand that Alana feels totally lost and has no idea what’s going on anymore. 

“You didn’t kiss back,” she says. 

“Oh. _Oh_ , no, I was just– thinking! I do that sometimes,” Alana answers and Rachel looks confused first, amused after a few seconds, and Alana thinks, _I’m completely failing at getting across what I mean again_. 

Rachel’s hand remains on her shoulder, not a grip anymore, just a slight pressure, even as seconds tick by and they just look at each other, and Alana decides that, as with coding, if there’s something going wrong, she’ll just have to fix it. She leans forward and kisses Rachel. It’s a little awkward; she almost misses her lips because her heart is still beating a little too fast and she can’t concentrate on anything else but her own thoughts – but Rachel smirks into the kiss and then Alana finds herself pressed against the wall again. It definitely helps distracting her from the inside of her own head; it shifts the focus.

Rachel’s lips are soft and warm and _perfect_ , Alana thinks as the pressure of Rachel’s hand vanishes completely off her shoulder. For a moment, she’s almost disappointed, but then Rachel slides her hand up Alana’s side and cups her cheek with it, which, Alana has to admit, is making better use of it. 

She shouldn’t be surprised (but, she is) – Rachel kisses the same way Alana is sure she does everything else: confident, demanding, a little merci- and ruthless. She makes a small sound against Rachel’s lips, surprised and something else, as Rachel suddenly slides one of her legs between Alana’s, pressing her thigh against her in a way that makes Alana want to pull her into the next best empty conference room; there’s a few of them here, just a couple of steps away– Instead, Alana just grabs a fistful of fabric she can reach with an almost jerky movement because she doesn’t know how else to occupy her hands – Rachel’s blouse feels smooth and expensive between her fingers, enough so that she almost feels bad for tugging at it the way she does, but, Alana thinks, Rachel would probably disapprove of her messing up her carefully styled hair even more, even though running her hand through it _is_ a very tempting idea–

There’s the sound of a door opening and closing somewhere to their left, and Alana is cruelly yanked back into reality by–

“Oh, Warren, isn’t this _adorable_?” 

Oh. 

“Doctor Maxwell, what are you– What do you think you’re _doing_?”

Oh, no.

Rachel smirks against Alana’s lips again and slowly drops her hand from where she’d still been placed against her cheek, taking a step back. 

Alana doesn’t know where to look at – looking over at Cutter and Kepler who just stepped out of one of the conference rooms she thought about just half a minute ago; being exposed to her superior’s disapproving glare, is definitely too uncomfortable, so she looks at Rachel instead.

Her blouse is a little rumpled where Alana’s held onto it, and she thinks, _oh, I did this, this was me and it will stay like this the whole day_. 

Rachel turns towards them with a smile on her face, lipstick still flawless, and one hand at her hip. “Why, hello there, gentlemen.” 

Cutter, smiling, because of course he is, looks from them to Kepler, and it’s impossible that he doesn’t sense the tension. He hums, and Alana can feel his eyes on her for a long moment even though she’s staring at the floor now. 

“Good for you, kids!” he says. “I have another meeting, but you just enjoy yourself – conference room 2B _is_ free now. Be safe!”

Rachel snorts while Kepler, probably because he can’t glare at Cutter, glares at Alana and Rachel instead, and Alana is reassured in her conviction, so deep-rooted that, to her, it’s more knowledge than a vague guess, that there is no God, because if there was, they surely would have to be merciful enough to strike her down right here and now. 

“Doctor Maxwell,” Kepler says slowly, voice low, and then says nothing else, but Alana _knows_ him, is as accustomed to his silences just as intimately as to his intonation and posture and dozens of long-winded stories, which, really, makes it hard not to flinch right now. There’s a variety of things he doesn’t say but expects an answer to, covering the whole range from ‘You _are_ aware of my very serious rivalry with this woman, aren’t you’, over ‘Oh, good, you _are_ , so please, enlighten me, what do you think you’re doing; should you, perhaps, think about where your loyalties lie again’, all the way down to ‘Ah, or do you, perchance, have a _death wish_ ’. 

“I– Sir–” Alana starts, irrationally anxious, it’s not as if Kepler had the right nor possibility to rule over every single aspect of her life, but–

(but, she knows, that’s wrong; he _does_ ) 

–but, _still_.

She’s close to apologizing and hopes that making it sound sincere, which she has learned to do, will end this awful, awful situation, when– 

Rachel laughs. 

“Oh, Warren, please,” she says, and Alana thinks that she _definitely_ spends too much time with Cutter; she, too, has this habit of overusing people’s first names. 

Kepler narrows her eyes at her. “I’m not talking to _you_ , Young.” 

She ignores him, unimpressed, and keeps talking. “You do know that I’m the one who manages Cutter’s schedule, right? I have to say, I was aware that it would annoy you, but your _face_! This was _definitely_ worth it.”

It takes Alana a good ten seconds to catch up; to realize what Rachel just said and what her words mean, and once she’s understood–

_Ah. Of course._

The rational part of Alana’s mind tells her that she really shouldn’t be surprised, but the emotional part, the one she often tries to ignore, the one she likes best when she completely forgets about it, unaware of its mere existence, is too disappointed to care about reason. A hard and cold feeling, sitting in her chest and stomach, heavy, ugly.

“You–” Kepler scoffs. “I can’t say I’m surprised that you would go so far to simply _annoy_ me, Young, but that someone with as much intelligence as you would stoop so low – I’m disappointed, Maxwell.”

(He isn’t – he doesn’t care enough about her to be genuinely disappointed, Alana is sure, or almost sure, but that doesn’t mean the words don’t have the desired impact. They hurt, on a distant, vague level, overshadowed by her own disappointment.) 

Maybe he’s busy, or maybe, she thinks, he’s honestly relieved this wan’t _real_ – either way, this time, he doesn’t wait for an answer, but Alana is very aware that this _will_ result in a lecture, later. 

She waits until Kepler’s stepped into one of the elevators, not once looking back at either of them, before she turns to finally meet Rachel’s eyes again. 

“That was–” 

_horrible, unfair, downright cruel_

“–not cool!”

Rachel laughs again. “Oh, come on,” she says, the look in her eyes amused. “It’s not only funny, but also ridiculously easy to make fun of him. And…” She smiles at her. “... you’re a good kisser, once you actually put some work into it, so that was definitely a plus.” 

Alana frowns, and for some reason, she doesn’t know what to do with her hands yet again, so she crosses her arms. “Don’t say things like that when you didn’t like it; when you didn’t even _mean_ it! You can’t do that, that’s– You don’t do that!” 

“Who says I didn’t like or mean it?” Rachel asks, raising an eyebrow at her. 

Alana hates that she has her at a complete loss for the second time over the course of only minutes. This doesn’t usually happen to her. “But,” she says slowly, “you said–” 

“Oh, _darling_ ,” Rachel laughs. “In Kepler’s presence, I say a lot of things. I’m sure he still wonders whether my statement from two years ago was true and I’m married.” She steps closer again, a quick, determined movement, and Alana stays very, very still as Rachel presses a kiss to her cheek. 

“I’m not, by the way. Married, I mean,” she whispers, her lips very close to her ear, and then she _winks_ at her and simply walks away. 

Alana stares after her until she’s out of sight, and then she says into the now empty corridor, “Oh.”

She doesn’t notice that there are light lipstick marks on her cheek until her lab’s AI points it out half an hour later, and she waits another two hours before she wipes them away because she’s about to leave for the cafeteria.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @possessed-radios or on my podcast sideblog, @shortwaveattentionspan. The ship name gawain and I agreed on is "Maxchel", in case anyone wants to yell about how good it is.


End file.
